THE STILLING OF THE SUPER-EGO
The processes of instilling in Serbs feelings of victimization and of entitlement to
grandeur, and of their uniqueness, and of fears of various sorts of conspiracies
against them were not all orchestrated. Neither the Serbian Church’s “Appeal on
Behalf of the Serbian Residents of Kosovo and Their Holy Shrines” (of 1982) nor the SANU Memorandum (of 1986) was part of a strategy orchestrated by the political establishment; the former came on the initiative of some of the priests in the Church, while the latter was the result of the autonomous decision taken by the Academy at a time when the ruling party of Serbia (a branch of the League of Communists of Yugoslavia) was still holding to the line that “every nationalism is (potentially) dangerous.” But after Miloševiæ’s seizure of power in the Serbian party in late 1987, that party quickly took up the tasks dictated by that Memorandum and at that point, the continuation of these processes of ‘neuroticization’ or even ‘psychotici-zation’ of the Serbian public became a matter of official policy. Not only were the Serbs unique among the peoples of the planet, even constituting in some extra- spatial sense, their own planet, but they enjoyed the special favor of God. In talking of ‘heavenly Serbia’, the clerics of the Serbian Orthodox Church laid claim to divine sanction for the program of Serbian territorial expansionism and, in the pages of Pravoslavlje, offered historical arguments for Serbian annexation of portions of eastern Slavonia. Later, it would even be claimed that God had specifically bequeathed Bosnia to the Serbs.
Karadžiæ himself claimed to be doing God’s work and was, in turn, described by Dragan Nedeljkovi as “one of the heroes of this end of the twentieth century.”
But in spite of these changes to the national ego, which – as is well known –
came at a time of shrinking economic capacities and general economic crisis, the
collective ‘super-ego’ remained, as already mentioned, an obstacle even though, by early 1990, if not before, Miloševiæ had decided on war against Croatia and perhaps also other republics.
To convert an already fearful population into soldiers prepared to fight against their former neighbors and friends (often in a literal sense), they had to be released from moral constraints and infused with hatred for the target peoples. As osi noted in a widely read work of fiction, “[D]riven by hatred, all men will fight…; hatred is the force which gathers and unites all energies.”
Moral disengagement, as Albert Bandura, a widely respected expert on the subject, noted in a 1999 article, can be achieved through a combination of displacement of responsibility (with, in this case, the Miloševiæ government assuming moral responsibility for the war), diffusion of responsibility (so that harm can always be attributed to the agency of others or to peer pressure), distortion of the consequences (aptly represented by the Bosnian Serb newspaper Javnost’ s representation of the massacre at Srebrenica as the “cleansing of a blot on the map”), and, perhaps above all, dehumanization and demonization.
In Serbian war propaganda, as is well known, Croats were routinely described as fascistic and genocidal by nature, referred to as “Ustaše”, and accused of wanting to revive the NDH (a charge which was true of some Croats, to be sure, but not of the majority of Croats). In the eyes of Serb propagandists, all Bosnian Muslims were “Islamic fundamentalists” and all Albanians were “rapists” and secessionists. Demonization specifically makes it possible for perpetrators of atrocities to maintain a positive self-image even while victimizing innocent civilians – on the argument that “no one is innocent.”
Thus, paradoxically, Serb nationalists engaged in the war typically upheld two contradictory theses: that they themselves were innocent victims of Croats, Albanians, Bosnian Muslims, et al., and that all sides were guilty and no one innocent! Since they never uttered these sentences sequentially, the blatant absurdity of this belief system was never, as far as I am aware, exposed by the media of any nation. Even the demonization of Germany for its alleged responsibility in plotting the dismantlement of socialist Yugoslavia and for its alleged culpability in starting the war in the first place through its advocacy of the recognition of Slovenia and Croatia (after the outbreak of hostilities) played a useful role in Serbian war propaganda. As Voltaire later Serbian claim that the tensions between Croats and Croatian Serbs began only after the election of Franjo Tudjman to the Croatian presidency is therefore contrary to fact. once said, “Those who can make you believe absurdities can make you commit atrocities.”
We know that the process of moral disengagement was still far from complete at
the time the war broke out (it was, in fact, never complete as such), because many of the JNA soldiers expressed confusion as to why they were suddenly fighting their fellow ‘Yugoslavs’, while many others went AWOL, even fleeing the country, rather than serve in the subsequent war against the Zagreb government. But several processes contributed to further stilling the stirrings of the Super-Ego.
First, as the violence continued, it became part of the daily routine, it became unsurprising and many people ceased to be as shocked and outraged as they were when the fighting first broke out.
Second, the role of some of the hierarchy of the Serbian Orthodox Church in sanctioning the violence first in Croatia and later in Bosnia-Herzegovina made a significant contribution toward moral desensitization. After all, if some of the official guardians of spirituality and morality have no qualms about supporting the war, why should ordinary Serbs worry about it? Moreover, insofar as the Church placed itself, thus, in alliance first with the Miloševi regime and then with Bosnian Serb leader Radovan Karadžiæ, the classic syndrome of the agentic state came into play. Experiments conducted by S. Milgram more than 30 years ago demonstrated that the desire of individuals to obey and please authorities is often sufficient to override moral reservations, even in the absence of any feelings of having been victimized by those on whom the experimental subject was prepared to inflict harm.
In the agentic state, individuals do not abandon their moral principles. Rather, they engage in moral rationalization, thereby convincing themselves that their actions are, in spite of appearances to the contrary, consistent with their core moral standards.
Other processes used to dull the moral sense include(d) the use of euphemistic
language (in which mass murder and the forcible expulsion of non-Serbs were
prettified by the term ‘ethnic cleansing’), advantageous comparison (in which
Muslims and Croats were said to have behaved far worse than the Serbs: for example, Patriarch Pavle joined Karadžiæ in claiming that there had been no rape camps operated by Serbs and no systematic rapes carried out by Serbs, even while accusing Croats and Muslims of having done precisely those things), diffusion or displacement of responsibility, and instances of blaming the victim. The last mentioned tactic was employed not only in the obvious sense of claiming that, for example, Tudjman’s firing of Serbs from positions in the police justified an insurrection against Zagreb, but also in the more brazen sense of actually blaming the victims for the atrocities which they suffered. Thus, in Serbian propaganda, it was the Croats themselves who had rocketed Tudjman’s presidential palace in 1991, it was the Croats themselves who had laid siege to the port city of Dubrovnik and were shelling the Croatian seaside town of Šibenik, it was the Muslims themselves who had fired upon their own co-ethnics in the Pirkala marketplace in 1994, and it was the Muslims themselves who had carried out the massacre at Srebrenica with the help of German and American operatives.
The Serbs even had an explanation for the alleged, consistent idiocy of
their antagonists: they did these things in order to make the Serbs look bad.
These various methods of moral rationalization and disengagement had some
unintended side-effects.
The first was that the habituation to violence led to an
escalation of violence within the family, with husbands beating wives and fathers
beating children.
Second, moral disengagement made it impossible to return to
the behaviors and patterns of the pre-war days. As Jo-Ann Tsang explains, in an
article published in the Review of General Psychology, “…the commission of immoral behavior makes it more costly [in terms of self-image] to act morally in the future, increasing the likelihood of further evil.”
After all, to take pride in subscribing to an ethic of, let us say, non-violence, is virtually impossible for someone who has established a persona based on killing large numbers of “enemies of the nation.”
UNLEASHING THE LIBIDO
If modern warfare may be thought of as a libidinal state, then mobilizing people for war requires more than redesigning the national ego and stilling the super-ego. It also involves and requires an unleashing of the energies of the libido in the service of the national fantasy. As I have already noted, the process of unleashing the libido began simultaneously with the redesigning of the national ego, indeed was, from the beginning, an essential part of the Serb nationalist strategy of transforming the mood, values, expectations, hopes, ambitions, and thinking of ordinary Serbs.
Sometimes the libidinal character of Serbian war propaganda was implicit, for
example when Vuk Draškovic said of the Serbian Army, “This is an army with the soul of a girl, the behavior of a priest, and the heart of Obilic.”
At other times, sexuality was made explicit, whether through the use of highly attractive young women dressed in uniform to beguile young men into associating war with sex or by explicitly advising young men that soldiers were sexually attractive to young women or through the sublimation of sexuality into the fetish of weapons, as in the refrain, “My companion is my rifle,…My bride is now my cartridge belt.”
But, as Freud knew, the libido embraces much more than just sexuality, and war
finds its libidinal character not just in sex, but in violence itself. Richard Morrock
notes how “in lynch mobs…[t]he killers do not look like people forced to take
unpleasant measures in order to protect their communities from criminals – their own rationalizations for their sadistic acts. Instead, they look like they are having a good time.”
The positive pleasure experienced in violence is reinforced by moral
inversion (in which the Serbs imagined themselves as “remnants of a slaughtered
people”, as Serbian writer Matija Beèkoviæ put it) and by the belittlement of one’s
antagonists. Again this results in paradox: if one’s enemies are threatening demons, how can they be fools? Or if they are fools, how can they be taken seriously as demons? But propaganda does not have to be consistent to be effective. On the contrary, by playing on contradictory themes, propaganda may actually be more effective than if it were entirely consistent.
Here the psychiatrists of both Belgrade and Zagreb played their part in creating
belittling national stereotypes. Zagreb psychiatrists E. Klein and M. Jakovljevi both portrayed Serbs as suffering from a collective inferiority complex, with the latter attributing patterns of “pathological possessiveness” to the Serbs as a nation. Belgrade psychiatrist J. Maric, for his part, found (in a work published in 1998) that Serbs were well-meaning and pacifist and had “never resorted to bad-mouthing or vilifying other peoples,” while Croats were allegedly “egoistic” and were “not keen on giving themselves to other human beings” having been “enslaved by objects” (unlike the Serbs).
Jovan Raškovic, at one time professor of psychiatry at the University
of Belgrade and the later co-founder of the Serbian Democratic Party in Croatia,
famously discovered that Croats were, as a people, suffering from a castration
complex, living in fear that “something terrible” was going to happen to them and
irrationally “afraid of being deceived.” Judging that Serbs had “aggressive oedipal traits,” Raškoviæ concluded that “people who have a castration type of personality structure are obsessed by a fear of those who have aggressive oedipal traits.”
But belittlement need not be confined to national groups, as proven by the
Serbian propaganda machine’s charge that Tudjman had tried to kill himself “in
order to spite Serbia.” Of course, this portrayed Tudjman simultaneously as self-
destructive and as a bungler unable even to kill himself; in combination, this
suggested that Tudjman was an unworthy adversary. Moreover, it is well known
that in rape situations, it is common for the rapist to insult and disparage his victim, thereby communicating to her that she “deserved” to be raped.
Nationalism does not have to assume a libidinal form, perhaps not even in war.
But in order to conduct an offensive war it is a huge advantage if those engaged in
it, first, actively, even passionately, deny the fact of the war’s being offensive, and
second, succumb to a libidinal fever in which the murder of one’s adversaries
becomes both pleasurable and the object of cult worship. One need only think of
the cult which grew up around Serbian war “hero” Željko Ražnjatoviæ ‘Arkan’ to see the point. And yet, this embrace of Thanatos and Libido – death instinct and life instinct – at one and the same time banishes the nation to a “spectral” world
occupying the twilight between life and death. Indeed, in the species of “eroticism”, if that is the word, represented by a well-known (to Serbs) poem by Desanka Maksimoviæ,
Love exists only if it is deprived of touch, only in some sentimental, trashy
suffering, from a distance, which is, however, the condition of [the] possibility of
love, since [the] very closeness, every touch, deadens love; the body is the death of
the life of love, the other is loved only as apparition, only as the spectre that is held at a distance: “Oh no, do not approach, I want from [a] distance to love and kiss these two eyes of yours”; in fact, we are not bodies at all, we are not alive either, we are somehow un-dead (to say nothing about the fact that the dead themselves can also approach us)…[O]ur bodies are not alive, or [rather], they are living graves; they are not in any way a source of enjoyment, and that is why the love relation should be spectral, un-dead.
CONCLUSION
Serbian society began to stray down the path to war more or less unwittingly.
Already in the years 1981—86, long before the other republics experienced anything
like a ‘national awakening’, Serbia (and here one may include Kosovo too) was
already sliding into a syndrome in which myths, threats, the allure of victory, and
belligerent rhetoric filled the public discourse, giving Serbs a sense of common
destiny but also separating them, psychologically, from the other peoples of socialist
Yugoslavia. That this was an unhealthy state of collective mind is clear from the
prominence of the themes of victimization, conspiracy, national entitlement, and
divine sanction of the Serbian national project, as well as from the insistent campaigns of dehumanization, demonization, and belittlement of Croats, Bosnian Muslims, and Albanians, as well as other peoples and states, which began at this time. This syndrome, in an individual, would be considered psychotic; to the extent that it permeated much of Serbian society, perhaps especially in the countryside, one may speak of Serbia having been sucked into a kind of collective psychosis. And to the extent that Serbian war propaganda aimed at reinforcing and stimulating this state of mind, we may say that it aimed at inculcating and reinforcing neurotic and
psychotic syndromes in Serbian society. This psychosis had its cultic saints – portraitsof Miloševiæ and Chetnik leader Draža Mihailoviæ were often displayed alongside those of saints canonized by the Church – had its bards (such as Simonida Stankoviæ and Ceca Ražnjatoviæ), and even had its official music – “turbo-folk”, a pop mixtureof folk-ethnic style with a rhythmic pounding beat. Moreover, this psychosis could even transport those infected to a state of consciousness which they mistook for a better world. Miloševi, for example, arriving dramatically at Kosovo polje in a helicopter on 28 June 1989, told those gathered for the six hundredth anniversary of Serbia’s mythic confrontation with its national destiny, that in that
the - century battle, Serbia had defended not just herself but all of European culture and civilization. Fine oratory might even be called the elixir of national psychosis.
Here,one may recall what Socrates said to Menexenus on the subject:
O Menexenus! Death in battle is certainly in many respects a noble thing. The
dead man gets a fine and costly funeral, although he may have been poor, and an
elaborate speech is made over him by a wise man who has long ago prepared what
he has to say…In every conceivable form they [the speakers] praise the city, and
they praise those who died in war, and all our ancestors who went before us, and
they praise ourselves also who are still alive, until I feel quite elevated by their
laudations, and I stand listening to their words, Mexexenus, and become enchanted by them, and all in a moment I imagine myself to have become a greater and nobler and finer man than I was before. And if, as often happens, there are any foreigners who accompany me to the speech, I become suddenly conscious of having [the experience of] a sort of triumph over them, and they seem to experience a corresponding feeling of admiration at me, and at the greatness of the city, which appears to them, when they are under the influence of the speaker, more wonderful than ever. This consciousness of dignity lasts me more than three days, and not until the fourth or fifth day do I come to my senses and know where I am – in the meantime, I have been living in the Islands of the Blessed. Or, one might say, under the holy lime tree.